


Getting what you want (it ain't easy)

by huxley



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Community: inception_kink, Crying, Dirty Talk, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huxley/pseuds/huxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur graduates from high school and Eames, the older man he's been seeing, comes to the ceremony. Afterwards they go back to Eames' place for a celebration of their own, with some life lessons along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting what you want (it ain't easy)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/20092.html?thread=48274044#t48274044) at inception_kink.

Arthur appreciated the fact that his parents had sat through his entire graduation ceremony without arguing, he really did, and they would all probably look back on this rare day with fondness. But now that it was over, he just wished that they would hurry up and leave already.

“And you’re sure we can’t take you to dinner?” his mother asked again, smoothing out a crease in Arthur’s gown.

“No, Mom. It’s _tradition_ for the graduating class to get dinner together after the ceremony.”

“Well, we’ll see you later then, dear. Have a good time.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving him in a cloud of perfume. His father clapped him on the shoulder and they left, disappearing into the throng of formal wear and gowns. Arthur stood on tiptoe to see over the crowd and watched them disappear around the corner and into the parking lot.

 _Finally_.

He manoeuvred his way out of the mass of bodies, muttering apologies, his head bowed to avoid getting dragged into conversation.

He found Eames leaning back against a wall next to the side entrance, half in shadow with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. He was dressed in the only formal suit he owned and looked like a more refined version of himself with his freshly shaven face, his hair slicked back and cufflinks glinting at his wrist as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Eames saw him coming and pushed back off the wall, exhaling smoke in lazy spirals around his face.

“Couldn’t you at least _try_ to look a little less shifty?” Arthur asked.

Eames grinned and flicked his finger at the tassel of Arthur’s mortar board, sending it swinging in front of his face.

“If I did, how would you ever recognise me?”

Eames stood over him and stared down into his face, huge and smelling of something dark and spicy beneath the smoke. Arthur wet his lips and the thrill from just being near him ran through his body. He fought the urge to close the useless foot of air between them and hated not being able to, not here. Eames seemed to read his thoughts and trailed his gaze over Arthur’s face, a knowing smirk playing around his lips.

“So,” said Eames, finally glancing away, “congratulations, Mr. Valedictorian. Great speech, by the way.”

“Well, you _would_ say that, seeing as you helped write most of it.”

“Still,” he said with a smile, “it was great seeing you up there, Arthur. All I got when I left high school was a hearty ‘congratulations, now fuck off’.”

He dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it into the asphalt with the toe of his shoe.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked.

*

Eames had bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate and they brought it to bed with them, undressing each other as they went and leaving a trail of clothing behind them.

“So I was thinking I should get you a graduation present”, said Eames, rubbing his hands up Arthur’s bare thighs.

Arthur was sat in his lap in his underwear, unknotting Eames’ tie and winding the dark silk around his fist.

“I know something you can give me,” he said, cocking his head and rolling his hips back against Eames’ crotch.

“You can have that anytime you want, love,” said Eames with a slow, dirty smile. “I was thinking something with a little more imagination.”

Arthur thought for a moment. He took a swig from the champagne bottle and undid the buttons of Eames’ shirt one-handed. An idea immediately came to mind, one that Arthur had been obsessing over for a while. He set the bottle back onto the bedside table and decided that he wouldn’t ask for it just yet.

“You could get me a tattoo,” he said instead. He traced his fingers over the dark swirls on Eames’ shoulder and leaned back to let Eames shrug off his shirt.

Eames settled back down and roamed his hands up over Arthur’s pale skin.

“What, and ruin _this_?”

Arthur caught his hands and pressed their lips together, their mouths cool and sticky from the champagne.

“What if it was your name tattooed on my ass?” said Arthur, laughing a little and ignoring the worrying realisation that he was only half joking.

Eames hummed in amusement. He curved his hands over Arthur’s hips and smacked his ass through the cotton of his underwear.

“Now that’s a part of you I _definitely_ don’t want ruined,” he said. “What’s mummy and daddy giving you?”

Arthur sighed and sat back on his haunches, scratching his nails through the curling hair on Eames’ chest.

“You mean besides a lecture on how crucial a time this is and how my decisions now will impact the rest of my life and blah blah blah?”

“Well I know you don’t want to hear it, but they have a point,” said Eames carefully.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle again. It was almost empty already and the alcohol was beginning to make his head spin. The idea of his parents finding an ally in Eames of all people suddenly struck him as hilarious and he choked over a laugh as he swallowed.

“I’ve already decided,” he said. He set the bottle back with a clatter and swore as he almost missed the table. “I’m getting a job. I’m not going to college to waste my time writing more essays when I could be out actually _doing_ something. I don’t need to learn anymore – “

“Oh yes, you’ve learnt everything there is to know, now that you’ve conquered high school. Look out Stephen Hawking.”

Arthur slapped at Eames’ head and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m joking, Arthur, I know you’re smart as hell,” Eames laughed. “But in the real world you can’t just quote your grades and expect everyone to bend over backwards for you and kiss your ass – “

“Why not? You do it,” Arthur interjected with a grin.

“Well yes, but as lovely as you are not _everyone_ will give you what you want because they want to shag you. You need to prove yourself and have a damn thick skin into the bargain.”

“I know that, I can handle it – “

“Can you?” asked Eames, raising his eyebrows. “If you’re going to go full steam ahead into the world, you’ve got to know you can’t always control it. You’ll have to handle being told ‘no’ for a change.”

Arthur shifted on his knees, restless from the alcohol. He was torn between irritation at being coddled and the tightness in his chest at how much Eames cared for him, how much he knew him. Truth be told, Eames’ words had already sank in more than a month’s worth of “advice” from his parents, though he was damned if he was about to admit to _that_.

“You know, I didn’t come here for a lecture,” he said. He bent down and kissed slowly at Eames’ chest, waiting.

Eames looked down at him from beneath heavy eyelids. He rubbed a hand up the back of Arthur’s neck and Arthur closed his eyes at the touch.

“Well then,” Eames said, his voice a low rumble against Arthur’s cheek, “let’s see if I can make my point a little more interesting, hmm?”

He reared up suddenly, grabbed Arthur around his waist and threw him onto his back. Arthur laughed when he hit the mattress and Eames leaned over him, burying his face in his neck. As Arthur wound his arms around his shoulders he realised that he missed the familiar scratch of Eames’ stubble against his skin.

“So you’re suddenly fine with someone else calling the shots for a change, is that it?” Eames asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He slid his hand down Arthur’s chest and rubbed the tip of his thumb against his nipple until it stiffened.

“Mmm hmm,” said Arthur. He drifted his lips across Eames’ cheekbone and breathed in the deep scent of his aftershave. “No problem.”

Eames raised his head and watched Arthur’s face for a moment. He bent down and kissed him, his tongue wet and sharp with alcohol. A nervous shiver ran across Arthur’s back as Eames stared down at him, his bulk bracketing Arthur’s body and blocking his view of everything but the dull glow from the bedside lamp.

“We’ll see about that,” Eames smirked.

He slid down Arthur’s body and threw his legs over his shoulders. Arthur stretched back with a contented sigh and smiled up at the ceiling as Eames pressed his mouth to his growing erection through his underwear.

He watched Eames’ big, plush mouth follow the shape of his cock to suck gently at the head. He reached down and let his fingertips play along Eames’ lips as they worked, his tongue licking over them and rubbing circling into his hipbones. Eames sucked at him until his underwear was soaked through and Arthur was fully hard, panting with sweat breaking out at the nape of his neck. Eames pulled his underwear off and swallowed his bare cock, Arthur arching his neck until the crown of his head met the mattress.

Eames ran his palms up over Arthur’s hips, his hands more than big enough to cradle the entire width of Arthur’s torso. It always made Arthur feel tiny and vulnerable and the thought of what those hands could do to him sent a clench of heat to his groin. He craned his neck to watch his cock moving in and out of Eames’ mouth and Eames looked up at him. He slid his hands up Arthur’s chest to cover his shoulders and rubbed his thumbs up over his neck, tilting his head back again.

Eames sucked him harder and Arthur felt the knot in his stomach tighten until he was twisting in Eames’ hands, scratching his nails down his forearms.

“I’m gonna come,” he panted, screwing his eyes shut. He dug his nails into the cords of Eames’ muscle and arched his back until –

Eames’ mouth slid up his cock and was gone. Arthur clenched his jaw and glared at him, panting through his teeth.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” he whined, reaching out for him.

Eames wiped his mouth and moved out of his reach to sit back against the headboard again. Arthur suddenly realised what Eames intended to do with him and he whimpered. He threw an arm over his face and cursed his own stupid mouth and Eames’ insistence on listening to it.

“You’re not going to let me come, are you?” asked Arthur, squinting over at him from beneath his arm.

“We’ll see,” said Eames, “now come here.” He slapped his thigh, yanked open the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a tube of lubricant.  
Arthur bit his lip. He pushed himself onto all fours and crawled into his lap, a high, wounded sound escaping his lips as his cock dragged across Eames’ stomach.

“Want to get my fingers ready?” Eames whispered in his ear.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, nodded and popped the cap of the tube as Eames settled back to watch. Arthur squeezed out some of the lubricant and caught Eames’ gaze before slicking all four of his fingers down to the knuckle. Eames stared at him with dark eyes as Arthur worked the lubricant over and between his fingers.

“That’s enough,” he said, pulling his hand from Arthur’s grip and gathering him against his chest. He reached around and rubbed his fingertips against Arthur’s hole, the shock of the cold lubricant making him jump. Eames slid a finger in, tested the give of the muscle and pulled out to add another.

Arthur threw his head back and sank down as far as he could, grabbing Eames’ elbow in case his mood was a particularly cruel one and he planned to pull out straight away. Eames’ fingers were so much thicker and longer than his own that they were always a shock to take in each time they did this, no matter how many nights Arthur spent in his own bed stretching himself open. His own slim fingers just weren’t big enough.

“Good?” Eames asked, holding his hand steady to let Arthur writhe slowly on his fingers. Arthur nodded and arched back to let Eames’ fingertips brush against his prostate. He felt Eames’ lips on his neck as they kissed a slow path up to his ear.

“You look so hot riding my fingers,” he said. “You want to come for me, don’t you?”

Arthur’s hips stuttered and he pressed his face into Eames’ neck, his cheeks burning. Eames was all about the dirty talk and had whispered things to him the first time they fucked that Arthur had never even heard of before. Eames’ voice alone was a turn on for Arthur – so rich and gravely and that _accent_. Sometimes Arthur didn’t even have to _hear_ it and had only to imagine it. Eames had once sent text after text of filth to Arthur’s cell phone during class and Arthur had sneaked glances at them throughout the period, before rushing to the toilets the moment the bell rang with his cock half-hard in his pants. He had tugged himself off into the toilet bowl with the phone clenched in his fist and Eames’ words on the screen.

“Talk to me, come on,” Eames said, pulling his fingers back and adding a third, carefully stretching Arthur’s hole, “tell me how much you want to come.”

Arthur nodded and mouthed dumbly at Eames’ shoulder as a trickle of sweat ran down his back. Eames always had to coax the words out of him, had to wait it out until Arthur’s desperation overtook his embarrassment. Eames suddenly twisted his fingers and pressed down and Arthur cried out. He curled a fist in Eames’ hair and raked it out of its neat, slicked style.

“God I need to come, _please_ ,” he said, panting the words into Eames’ temple.

“You’re such a good boy,” Eames soothed, “look how hard you are for me.”

He tilted Arthur’s head and Arthur stared down between his own legs. His cock was dark red and leaking steadily at the tip against Eames’ stomach. It brushed against the tight muscle with each hard twist of Arthur’s hips and he moaned, planted a hand on the wall behind Eames’ head and sped his pace, bouncing on his fingers.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Arthur whined. He lifted his head and pressed their foreheads together, staring into Eames’ flushed face.

“Touch me,” he said, sliding Eames’ hand up his thigh and fighting to keep his voice steady, “please, touch me.”

Eames smiled and rubbed his thumb along the juncture between Arthur’s thigh and hip. The touch was soft and teasing as it inched towards his cock and Arthur’s mouth fell open. He dropped down onto Eames’ fingers and circled his hips, grinding against his hand. His fingernails skirted along the wall as he mumbled Eames’ name over and over again, the start of his orgasm flaring at the base of his spine and shooting between his legs. One touch to his cock and he’d be gone.

“Not yet, sweetheart” said Eames.

Arthur _sobbed_ , but before he could protest he was on his stomach with his face in the pillows and Eames was pulling him to his knees.

“Not much longer,” he said, “I promise.

He spread Arthur’s cheeks and rubbed the head of his cock against his hole, giving Arthur a moment to twist his fingers in the bedsheets and to brace himself before Eames pushed inside. Arthur moaned and bit at the pillow as Eames sank into him, rubbing his huge hand up the length of his spine.

“Fucking hell, Arthur,” Eames panted. He pulled back and fucked into him with short, deep thrusts, jostling him against the bed. The head of Arthur’s cock brushed the sheets and he had but a moment to bite his lip in relief before Eames was hiking his hips back.

“I can’t do it, Eames, I _can’t_ ,” Arthur cried, reaching beneath his stomach. He searched blindly for his cock and almost screamed when his fist closed around it.

Eames reached around and yanked Arthur’s hand away, twisting his arm behind his back. He found Arthur’s other hand and crossed his wrists at his tailbone, gripping them in one hand.

“Just do as you’re told,” Eames said as he quickened his pace, “there’s a good boy.”

Arthur cried out in frustration and spread his thighs, pressing back onto Eames’ cock. He tested Eames’ grip on his wrists and found no give. Heat pounded in his temples, spots swam in front of his eyes and his tongue felt huge and useless. He tried to ask for something, for _anything_ , but then Eames’ fingers dug into the flesh of his ass and Arthur knew what was coming.

“Hit me,” he gasped.

Eames’ hand smacked across the mound of his cheek before the words had left his mouth.

“ _Harder_ ,” he groaned and Eames smacked him again and again until the sound rang in Arthur’s ears and he was swearing and pulling away from the sting of Eames’ hand.

Eames grunted and suddenly Arthur’s arms were free. Eames forced him onto his back and he whimpered in pain as his ass hit the mattress, his hands fluttering up to his face.

“You’re starting to hate me, aren’t you?” Eames panted, pulling Arthur’s hands away from his face.

Arthur shook his head weakly. His vision was blurred and his head felt light headed as he peered down at his cock. His lip trembled at the angry red colour of it and the mess of precome on his stomach.

“You are,” Eames said, “it’s all over your face.” He rubbed a rough thumb across Arthur’s cheekbone and the brief touch sent a flash of arousal through Arthur’s body. His cock gave a hard twitch as it bobbed in the air and Arthur’s patience snapped, the deep ache between his legs suddenly unbearable.

“ _Yes_ , alright? I fucking hate you, you bastard,” he choked, burying his face in his hands.

“I know pet,” Eames murmured. “It’s not fair, is it?”

He ran his palms down Arthur’s torso and Arthur slithered up into them, winding his legs around Eames’ waist. Eames’ hot, wet fist closed slowly around his cock and Arthur _screamed_ into his hands. His body snapped up into an arch and Eames rubbed his thumb across the slit of his cock and Arthur was coming, his entire body shaking.

“That’s it, come on,” Eames urged in a deep, rough voice, rubbing his fist around the neck of his cock as he fought to hold Arthur’s body still. The pleasure was unlike anything Arthur had ever felt before – hot tears sprang to his eyes and before he could stop himself he was crying into his hands, fucking Eames’ fist and fighting for breath. Eames rubbed him through it and wrung the last of the come from his cock before lowering him back down to the bed, the last spasms dying away.

Arthur curled onto his side and his eyes fell closed, too exhausted to hide hide his tears. Eames leaned over him and pressed a rough kiss to his temple.

“I’m so sorry, darling, but I need to come,” he said, taking Arthur in his arms and sliding in behind him. He grabbed Arthur by the waist and slid his cock between his thighs.

Arthur relaxed and took deep, shuddering breaths as Eames rocked against his back and pumped his cock between his legs, mumbling into his neck. His arms were heavy and warm around him and Arthur rubbed the pad of his thumb across his wrist, wanting to help him but not having the strength. Eames suddenly froze and bit at Arthur’s neck, his cock jerking and spurting come over his thighs.

Arthur forced his eyes open as Eames rolled him gently onto his back. He stared down at him, all damp muscle and his forehead creased in concern.

“You OK?” he asked, wiping the tears from Arthur’s cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I’m brilliant,” Arthur smiled lazily, nuzzling into his palm.

“It wasn’t too much?”

Arthur shook his head. _I’ll never have too much of you_ , he thought. Eames pet through his hair as Arthur sank back into the pillows, his head heavy and the sweat cooling on his skin.

“I know what I want for my graduation present,” he said quietly, watching Eames’ face.

“Is that right?”

Arthur paused and took a deep breath, suddenly nervous.

“I want us to go away together for a while” he said, the words falling from his mouth in a rush.

Eames raised his eyebrows.

“You do? Where did you have in mind?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Arthur shrugged. “Just somewhere we can relax and not worry about getting caught. Somewhere I can actually spend the night with you rather than having to rush home to make curfew.” He chewed on his lip and waited for Eames’ response.

He had wanted to suggest the idea for some time but was afraid of what Eames would say, worried that the suggestion would make him sound like a burden. Sex with Eames meant showering thoroughly afterwards before heading home with a new excuse for his absence. He had fantasised for weeks about feeding his parents some story about a road trip with his friends and spending the time with Eames, falling asleep in his arms all dirty from his come.

“No problem, darling. You decide where you want to go and I’ll take care of it, alright?” Eames said, reaching for his cigarettes.

Arthur stared at him as he lit up and laughter bubbled up inside him, forcing its way out through his haze of exhaustion.

“What’s so funny?” Eames asked, exhaling smoke through his nose.

Arthur heaved himself up onto an elbow and shook his head in amusement.

“After all that you’re _still_ agreeing to my demands. You’re hilarious.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eames said, looking embarrassed and grinning around his cigarette.

Arthur smiled and shifted closer, watching Eames smoke for a moment.

“Can I have a drag?” he asked. Eames had always insisted that Arthur shouldn’t take up smoking. Apparently _that_ was the one line not to be crossed according to Eames’ questionable morals.

“Don’t push your luck, love,” he said. He reached over and grabbed the bottle of champagne.

“Drink that up, instead,” he said, handing it to him. “Your second life lesson, Arthur: you’ll need a lot of bloody alcohol to get through it.”


End file.
